Interview With The Nations
by AcrossTheWorld
Summary: Genevieve Hanselman is a journalist at a respected magazine company. On her day off, she was called to work by her boss and giving the story of the millennium. Interviewing the representatives of every nation. Finding out the truth to history, the answers to questions that would not only appeal to the masses, but bringing out long forgotten memories of the nations themselves.
1. Prologue

Genevieve finished the last recording on a late Monday afternoon. Recordings, sadly, could not fit in a newspaper article, meaning she now had to summarize the supposed important points. Determining which parts were important and which parts were not was the main challenge. Genevieve herself deemed it all important. It was as if she was determining history. Easily cutting out the parts that would not interest an audience.

Her idea of interesting and those of the masses obviously differed. Why her boss even chose her to conduct these interviews baffled her. Her peers would ask the questions that the viewers would want to know. The chance of a lifetime to interview people she had not even heard of before, and she was sure they would ask about past lovers or conflicts with allies.

But Genevieve, of course, had a minor in history. A passion for journalism with analyzing historical figures on the side. Shame on her for asking how they felt during certain wars instead of who could make the best love. Shame on her for asking about family lives despite national conflicts instead of makeup techniques. Shame on her. Shame on poor Genevieve.

With the CD still in the television, she took the remote and forced it to go back to the start. Despite having watched the entire things two other times, one more couldn't hurt. Her own voice sounded horrid to her, but it was what she asked. The shifting of the person who an uncomfortable question appears. The way they smiled brightly when recalling a happy event. Their words of advice moved her to tears almost.

Genevieve sighed and sat back to watch. Just over a year ago, she remembered getting the call of her lifetime for the scope of a lifetime. How angry she was with getting woken up so early on her one day off. The shock and non believing when told of her new project. The story of the millennium.

Her very own interview with the nation's representatives

* * *

It was a Sunday morning, Genevieve Hanselman's only day off from her tiring work. So when her phone rang out at seven in the morning, she had a very large reasons to be upset. At first she believed it to be her alarm that she forgot to set, or perhaps one of her relatives that had no idea of time and could call whenever they pleased.

Rubbing her eyes, she took the phone that was on her nightstand and answered. Clearing her throat to show that it wasn't as groggy or as sleepy as she thought. If it was a relative, she couldn't be rude.

"Hello?" She answered, wincing at the sound. She hated mornings.

"Hey? Gen, it's Jacob. You need to come down to the office. Right now," a pause when the man heard a groan over the phone. "Don't shoot the messenger."

"Jacob, it's my only day off. Why do I have to come in? Someone better be dying." Genevieve stretched her arms and wiped off the drool that seemed to crust over her left cheek. She really needed to look into buying nose strips so she didn't wake with a puddle under her any longer. "Seriously. Why are you calling me in?"

There was a sigh on the other end of phone and a moment of muttering. 'So, Jacob isn't alone?' Genevieve almost groaned. That meant he was with the boss, Mr. Stevens. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. On her day off she would be given an assignment. 'This better ensure me a Christmas bonus…'

"I can't talk about it much right now," Jacob said when he returned to the phone. "Mr. Stevens wants you down right away. Just come as soon as you can, please?"

Genevieve rubbed her neck, knowing she couldn't say no and leave Jacob with the beast of a boss. He may eat him. "Alright. I'll be there soon enough. Let me get ready and I'll head over to the office. Okay?"

Jacob said his reply and clicked off the phone. Genevieve got out of her warm bed and began to get ready. Skipping the shower and putting on an enormous amount of deodorant and her vanilla cherry perfume to mask the smell of bed and sleep. A small braid for her hair that took little effort and whatever pantsuit she found first in her closet. She didn't think she would be meeting with any reporters or people today, so her looks was not that important to see a coworker and her already pissed off boss. What could become of a few strands of loose hair or her eyeliner not perfect.

Ten minutes later she arrived at her work. Locking her car, she made her way to the fifth floor of her work building, arriving in the elevator to Sunday workers with too perky smiles. The ladies already knew Genevieve fairly well, knowing the boss had a tendency to give her more interesting cases that actually had their own article. She had to thank her knowledge in culture and knowledge and what people enjoyed to ready.

"Mr. Stevens." Genevieve said upon arriving in his office. He was a plump man, hands twitching with the want to smoke but knowing due to new building laws, he would have to wait to make his way down to smoke his death stick. His hair was combed over in a new way, hiding the spots on his head that were starting to bald. A coffee stain on his striped shirt and crumbs of a donut around the corners of his lips. "You wanted to talk to me."

The plump man smirked and nodded. "Sit down, Genevieve. I've got an assignment for you to do."

'Well, I figured that much…' Genevieve thought to herself, sitting down in one of the hard chairs that he offered to people. "What is it?"

After a moment of searching through papers, he pulled out a stack and smiled, handing them to her. "We got the story of the century, no, the story of the milillumn in my hands," he started. "You might think this is crazy, but I had to get through like, a ton of official people just to be able to do this."

Handing over the stack, Genevieve took it and opened the paper, frowning at the first article. "So...I'm…" She had to read it over once again to make sure she wasn't missing anything. "I'm interviewing envoys from countries? Are there even envoys anymore? I thought that was more of a medieval practice, you know?"

Mr. Stevens groaned. "No." He looked as if he was trying to find the right words. "There are these...these people out there Genevieve. Something called representatives. People who are actually the countries. They...they live forever. Whatever happens to the country happens to them." He explained, watching as Genevieve's face went from surprised to confused. "It seems insane, I know. Someone from...some peace organization told me this information and I went to a couple of government officials with the information, requesting to interview these nations reps. You have no idea how willing people are to assist you when you hold things like this over their head."

Genevieve was still confused. The idea of people living forever and being countries, that sounded straight out of a children's book, not something that could happen in real life. "Are you kidding me? Is this some sort of joke?"

"No. No joke at all. This is seriously something. Look, this peace organization contacted me and wanted me to do this to...to put more awareness out there. They have this ideology that if we know that whatever we do to the countries happen to real people, and we don't imagine nations as just boarders to be crossed, we might be at a more peaceful world. It's just what they want me to do, and I'm giving you this.

"Ask questions. You'll be flown to each country and interview them. You'll get a short bio of each nation to make sure of things not to ask. I'm sure these people will not want their entire life just out there. But I need you to do this. For one, you were one of the only ones to actually pass this strict background test. That, and I know of your history minor or major or whatever. You'd be able to ask real questions. I...I want you to ask questions for the public, of course. Ask questions that will actually interest people. But we need to do whatever the hell this peace people want. They're funding it, mostly." He paused his monologue for a moment, watching Genevieve and her reaction now. "Will you take the case? Hm?"

Genevieve sighed, a slight shake of her head. Her mind was still processing what was going on. People...people could be countries? That seemed just impossible. Impossible that it could be like this.

"This isn't a joke?"

"No. So, will you take the case or should I have someone else? This is the story of a lifetime. Interviewing nations. Actually people who has lived through so much war and suffering and happiness." He smiled a bit. "Will you take the case?"

Genevieve finally knew he had to reply. But she had too many questions to make up her mind. "How is this possible? This isn't...this isn't some fantasy thing?"

Mr. Stevens shook his head. "Look. I don't know how it happens either. No idea. None. But it happened somehow and we got an interview with these people. Record it, ask questions, and be a damn reporter with this. Now...will you take the case? You can ask questions later on but I need an answer or I'll move on to the other people.

Genevieve looked down. Guess that meant she had to reply. It would be ask if she would be talking to a real history book. Getting answers to questions and figuring out what was going on. It...it was a dream. A scary dream.

"Alright. I'll take it."

* * *

Author Note: Sorry for it being so short. This is more of the prologue to everything. The first chapter will be much longer and up in...hopefully a few. I hope everyone enjoyed the story and thank you again for reading. :)


	2. The Nation That Isn't So Fat

Genevieve looked herself in the mirror once more, checking over her appearance to make sure it would be presentable. She had been given instructions by Mr. Stevens a day before heading out to New York. A car would be picking her up and taking her to a hotel to meet this...personification of a nation. Wrapping her head around that was still not a task that she enjoyed doing. But she would be driven there, searched for any weapons, before being allowed to see and interview him. She felt as though she was going to meet the President with all the security measures being taken. Then again, this was literally the nation itself. She could understand why measures would be taken to ensure his safety.

She began to brush her hair once more, letting the curls thin out a bit more so it didn't appear that she curled it twice to retain form. Another coat of lip gloss and a one check over of her clothes. Being presentable matters most currently. Unlike the rush to meet her boss, she was meeting a major figurehead of the world. Already did she had questions both written down and forever put into her brain. Questions of her own that she wanted to know and questions that would appeal to the masses of the world.

She let out another sigh and took the bag that held her video camera, the camera itself, and also her book with the questions she knew she would forget if not written down. One more quick check and she was out the door. Everything was going to be alright. She was being nervous for nothing. This had not been the first interview she had ever done and it would probably not be the last. But this was the most important figure that she had met.

The car was already parked in the front, and what appeared to be a secret service man stood there, waiting for her. Dark glasses, black suit, earpiece and all. Definitely intimidating. She could imagine why. Her boss came with information that was not really opened to the public and now the secret would be out. In all honesty, she was surprised that they didn't just kill her boss. It would stay a secret.

Maybe they thought it was time that everything was brought to light?

"Are you Genevieve Hanselman?" The man asked in a deeper voice, fitting to his physical build.

"Yes, I am." She looked to the car, trying to figure out what to say.

A small silence came over the two until he went and held open the door for her to climb into. "We will be taking you to where he will be. After we arrive a female agent will be there to check you over and make sure you are hiding no weapons or anything that could harm him. Then, you will be taken to the room. Understand?"

Genevieve managed a nod as she went into the car, sitting down with her case. The drive over there seemed like a long one but she could tell that they were turning often, probably to distract her from seeing where they were. The windows were tinted, not allowing her to look for landmarks. She also noticed that when the agent was talking to her, he refused to say the name of the personification. Everything felt so weird.

Upon arriving, they ushered her into a building, giving her very little time to look around. A bit of fear started to go through her mind, wondering if she would actually be given an interview or if she would be on the phone. She had that happen once and she basically stopped the interview halfway because of how bull it was. It wasn't funny but the man she talked to.

The female agent soon came up, a smile upon her face as she searched Genevieve's person and her purse, checking to make sure no weapons were being hidden.

"You understand why we're doing this?" She asked. "We just need to make sure you won't harm him. Despite you being a U.S citizen, we need to make sure. If you are doing this with other nations, you will probably need to do the same if not even further investigations into your background. You seem to check out pretty well. No reason why security should worry about you."

Genevieve nodded. She really hoped there were no reasons why the national government should be fearful of her. The worst thing she had ever done was get a couple of speeding tickets when she was in her teens. Other than that she was clean.

"Alright. Now, we'll bring you up to the meeting room. He should meet you there soon enough. Set up whatever you need." She handed Genevieve back her purse and left, leaving Genevieve alone with the same person who brought her to the hotel.

"Follow me," he said as he began to walk off. Genevieve nodded, following after. It had to be a hotel, now that she was looking at it. Obviously she wouldn't go to an apartment complex and risk finding out where this man lived. At the same time, she wondered if security was this strict for a country personification. If what her boss said was correct, they couldn't die unless the nation died. She did understand, however, that they were the nations itself and protecting them would be a fairly large issue, but this extreme for a single interview? It almost seemed too much for people who could never die.

When the agent lead her to the room, he opened the door and shut it quickly behind her, leaving the journalist alone in the room. White walls with pale pink, classic designs littered the walls. A desk, accompanying two chairs sat in the middle with provided water. "Probably been tested," Genevieve whispered under her breath.

Setting up her supplies took little time. The camera was setup to record everything and if for some odd reasons, it decided not to work, she had her pad of paper and pen to write down every word. It took forever to mastered the art of taking down notes quickly. Setting up her own system of abbreviating to ensure that words did not get lost in her own chicken scratch of a translation. Everything looked neat. Paper and pen side by side, the camera ready to record at the press of a button. Her own clothes smoothed back out after being checked over by the kind female agent. Now, all that was left would be to meet the man himself.

The rush of nerves that had left when she got into the car suddenly came back. The full force of the situation came into her mind. She was meeting a nation. An actual nation. Her nation. A picture of what the personified America popped into her head. She could go into stereotypes. A stereotypical America? Tall, fat, greedy, not very intelligent and always trying to tell her what she wanted to know. It almost made her giggle to picture that. Maybe there would be an eagle on his shoulder and every other word out of his mouth would be about freedom and justice.

That was when the door opened. A small squeak of doors in need of fixing let her know besides the swosh of wind that suddenly entered. Genevieve turned around, blinking at what she saw. No agent was next to him. They must have trusted her somewhat, seeing as how she had no weapons. Perhaps they understood that Genevieve was just one woman against someone who had been alive for so long.

The mental picture that Genevieve had thought up was nothing what he appeared. Blond hair that went just below the ears in a neat and fashioned sort of way. Blue eyes that could hold the entire sky. He wasn't fat as she thought he was. If anything he looked strong but slightly under weight. His clothes were clean. Tan pants that were pressed, a white shirt with what appeared to be a bomber jacket over it. Glasses that had been recently cleaned sitting atop his nose. No eagle to be seen. Red, white, and blue missing from his wardrobe. Everything she imaged about the personification about this nation seemed to be false.

Then again, he had yet to open his mouth.

"Hello," Genevieve started first. "My name is Genevieve Hanselman. Thank you for coming here and agreeing to do this interview with me. It means a lot to my company and myself that you will be willing to do this." She was just sprouting legal nonsense at this point. "Now, you do agree to this interview where you will be filmed and recorded? Anything you ask me not to put in I will respect your legal wish and either delete said sentence or simply not add it into the magazine. Do you agree to said statement?"

The blond man nodded, offering a smile to her. "I agree to said statement." His voice wasn't shrilled. It wasn't calming, but it wasn't as if she wanted to cover her ears as he spoke. "It's good to meet you too. Sorry about all of the security measures. They got the word that someone knew about me and they panicked. It was kinda funny, actually. Suddenly comin' into my house and acting like I was dying or something. But anywho, yeah, I agree. Ready to start this."

Genevieve nodded, offering him a seat as she pressed the record button the camera. The man, America, took a seat a moment later, a cheery smile still plastered on his face.

"Alright. So, I'm going to go over the basics for a few. Can you explain to me who you are?"

"Of course," said the cheery male. "I'm America. Or the United States."

"Do you have any other name you could possible go by?" Genevieve wrote down his country on the top. The camera would want to get ever word of this just in case someone would want to make a documentary of this. Her company would have actual recordings and they could sell the footage. Her boss had thought of everything.

America shrugged. "I have a name that I sometimes go by. Mostly it is only to sign legal documents. Kinda hard to just put the great America." He joked and leaned back in his chair. "Alfred F. Jones. You can write that part down." Genevieve looked up. He might have a specific list of things his boss told him that he couldn't say. A name must not have been on it.

Genevieve jotted that down. "So, you've been a country for a little while. Not...not as long as others of course. But if you had to say you learned one thing from your time of living as a nation, what would it have to be?"

The nation paused to think for a moment. Looking over the words carefully in his head. Genevieve could almost hear the screams of freedom going on. Something about democracy or something or other. "I guess," he started. "I guess that would have to be, one of the reps like myself, we're not evil. We can have evil leaders or bad people in our country, but that doesn't make us personally evil and horrible."

Okay, that wasn't about freedom.

Genevieve sat there, deadpanned expression on her face as she tried to connect what she just heard to what she thought she would hear. Either way, it wasn't what she wanted at all. No freedom in that sentence. Instead, it told her that he had been around to see those he knew close rise up against him.

Shit. This wasn't going to be how she thought it was.

"Alright. Thank you. Now, this question is somewhat personal. Tell me, what is the best moment of your entire life? Either that your nation went through or that you personally went through. It could be anything. Anything in the world,"

America stared, blinking as again he paused to figure out the question in his head. Genevieve wondered if this conversation had passed through his head. Service men sitting down the rep. and questioning him over and over again. Knowing it, Alfred was probably told how to get around questions that had to do with security measures. But these were personal. No risk of someone getting into the U.S government with a few questions about happy memories and advice.

"Well..." America began. "I suppose it would have to be...1926, July 4th. My 150th birthday. Roaring twenties, alcohol was illegal, and I had the biggest most bad-ass party of the year. Of the century."

* * *

America looked at the finishing touches of the room that was still being organized. The table clothes were smoothed over, the musicians were tuning up to play, and the cooks were busy in the back trying to put the meals for the hundreds of people planning to attend. Presidents, kings, prime ministers, friends and family of said world leaders, and of course, the nations themselves. He made sure to invite every country that he could. His boss had a final say in a few. Allies that needed to be there or what would look good for political matters. Either way, they were looking at over three hundred people total to attend.

"Such a large party for a large nation," one of the officials said. "Are you excited?"

He smirked, nodding as he straightened his bow tie. "Of course I'm excited. It'll be kickin', I can already tell. Just ready to dance and ave a good party. What's the excuse this time around? What am I?"

"Family member of the president, like always, Mr. America." America gave him a look. He had been trying to get more of his officials, officers, and others to call him at least America. Alfred would be best. Ever since the ending of the Great War, he had been trying to go by that name.

* * *

"Why did you want to be called Alfred?" Genevieve asked, writing down a few notes. "And why at the end of..World War 1?"

America chuckled and sat up. "There are fads with people, you know? They way people dress or talk? Well, there were stuff going around the other nations and all. The main thing after the first World War was to have a human name. Everyone had made up a human name and was trying to go by it. You shoulda seen it. My boss looked so shocked when I told him it. Alfred F. Jones. Everyone had one. Some of them forgot theirs, but most of us still have ours. If we go out, we use it. I mean, if I went to order coffee, am I supposed to say America to the Starbucks lady? No, I gotta come up with a name and well, that's what sticked."

Genevieve nodded. Thankful for the camera at this point. "Alright. Please, continue with the story."

* * *

It was around five in the afternoon that people started to attend. The nations coming along with their leaders, though a few lagged behind for 'personal reasons'. Alfred chalked it up to them not seeing personal friends for months and wanted to visit. It was still nice. China was there, and Russia and his sisters tagged along. Canada was the first but he was awkwardly sitting with his prime minister and sipping water.

"Do you know if England is here yet?" Alfred asked, searching for his bushy eyebrowed friend.

The official shook his head. "No, sir, no sign of him yet."

* * *

Genevieve shook her head. "Wait, why would you be looking for him? I understand at the time and now he would be an ally, but why him in particular." Dear God, she hated herself for asking this. But the people would eat this up if they were together.

"Well, when a country has colonies, and they leave, the dominate country becomes weaker. Around that day of independence said country can become weak and sick. Since it was still around when I left, hew as still ill. The month of July is really hard for 'im, because of all the nations that left. Hong Kong, Canada, myself, and a bunch of others. But he just gets like, a headache, now. Not that bad. But he was normally really sick around my birthday. I wanted him to be there once, but he wasn't normally."

Genevieve felt a bit of sadness in her heart. It was like a little boy wanted his father to show up on his birthday, but having him never show up. "I see. I'm sorry for interrupting. I'll try to save my questions until the end."

"It's no biggie," said America.

* * *

America frowned. No England. No England yet. He may show up yet! He was going to show up and it was going to be a good birthday this time around.

And it was at 7 at night, did the English nations finally show up.

France was besides him, practically dragging in the very sick looking blond. He was wearing extra layers, but the material looked thin. A jacket, vest, shirt, and his trousers and shoes. Hunched over, pale, dazed eyes that made his emeralds cloud to be of no value. It hurt Alfred by just looking. But...his wish did come true, right?

"Yo, England!" He hopped out of his seat and went over to the door. England right away stood up a bit straight, much to a slight protest of France. He could see the nation of love hold a tighter grip on his arms. Almost forcing him to not move from the position. "Ya actually made it! How are you feeling? Do you want a seat? Or I can get someone to remove your jacket."

England rolled his eyes. "No, I do not need someone to take my jacket or provide me with a seat. I am fairly well enough to stand on my own. I suppose that I didn't miss supper? Pity, I didn't want to ruin my pallet with your cooking, America."

'Same ol' England,' America thought. He could see through it though. He had been doing a better job of 'reading the atmosphere' and could clearly tell that England looked ready to pass out or puke. Or puke then pass out. "Dinner is just about to be served. And you need to sit down to eat. I think your leader is over there, Arthur." His human name rolling off America's tongue.

England glanced up to Alfred for a second, a small pause coming between the two before England nodded. "Fine. If I get sick because of your bloody cooking, then I'm going to start another way."

America laughed and nodded. "Got it, Artie. Well, I have to check on dinner. See ya later."

With a wave, he quickly went to the kitchen. He could hear England screaming after him, telling him not to use that nickname and other suck curses that were not suitable for a party of this size. Alfred couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head. Yep, this was the Artie that he missed.

On the way to the kitchen, he passed by Prussia and Germany. They were talking, a bit far off from everyone else. A country that was a lead power in a major World War was talking with another nation. Not out loud or freely, even. Instead, it was hushed whispers between the blond and albino countries.

America walked over slightly, making it seem as if he was just enjoying the music rather than listening to their conversation. Luckily for him, Germany was too engrossed in his conversation with his brother to know that America was right there.

"...need to. Bruder, you need to at least sit down," Prussia whispered, taking hold of Germany's shoulder. "Your boss is wrong. They're not going to think that you're weak or that you can be taken over. You need to sit. I can already see you're swaying."

"Nein." Germany tried to steady himself more to prove his statement, but his knees were shaking as was his hand at his side. "Nein. I am fine, stop worrying about me, bruder."

Prussia suddenly took a more serious look to his face. Standing straighter to eat away at the slight height difference between the two. He looked like an older brother and not the funny guy the world knew him as. "West, you've lost weight. Anyone can tell that much. I know you wore extra clothes so it looks as if you are bigger than you are. Your hands are shaking and the second you smelled the food you looked ready to faint." He paused, letting his words sink in to the former empire. "You need to sit down. Please. I can't have you passing out."

America was, for the most part, shocked. When he greeted the German nation at the door, he looked to be alright. But now that he was looking at him, he could tell the differences. His cheeks were slightly sunken in, bags around his eyes, and his skin a ghostly pale color. His hands shook just as Prussia describe them to. His entire body looking ready to collapse the moment he was able to.

'So, this is what happened.' Alfred thought. When you strip a country's title of empire, take away their military, take away their land, and force them to pay the entire war debt. He heard the rumors of how badly he was doing, but seeing it up close like this scared him even more.

"Ja..." Germany finally said. His head was hung low like a kicked dog. "Fine. I'll sit down. If my boss-"

"Who cares about your boss. If he tries to say anything, your awesome older brother will come over and beat him up for you. Promise. Now come on. Sit down." Prussia patted his back and led Germany over to a few chairs, sitting him down and getting him a drink.

America stayed there for a moment, leaning against the wall as his mind forced himself to process everything. Germany was going through hell. Sure, he assisted in a major war...but...was it right to do all of this.

Oh well. What's the worst that could happen?

America did go back to the kitchen, though. He did a quick sweep of the food and made sure to tell one of the cooks and waiters to give a bit extra to Germany. He didn't go into any specifics, but they seemed to understand fairly quickly.

* * *

"We didn't know what he was going through." America said, breaking away from the story at hand. "We didn't know how bad it was. None of us knew. I mean, I had an idea. I had a small idea that maybe things weren't okay. But..." He shook his head. "He broke. He allowed a huge and powerful leader rise up. Prussia tried to convince us during the war that it wasn't Germany. That the thing that took over him wasn't his little brother. No one believed him. Hell, I didn't even believe him. Then...we went to capture Germany. He looked different. He wasn't glaring like he was during the second world war. He looked scared, like a little kid. I think he realized what he had done then."

Genevieve nodded. Her hand had stopped moving at this point. So entranced in his story that she couldn't take her pen to the paper. "What do you mean? Like, he woke up?"

America looked down to his hands as he shook his head in agreement. "Yeah, he woke up," he said. "Like, he was awake during World war 2. Fully awake. But he wasn't at the same time, if that makes sense? It was like, after Hitler killed himself, he knew what was going on and realized what he did. How he murdered millions of people. It was frickin' scary."

Genevieve did take that down. She would have to ask Germany and this...Prussia guy once she saw him. She knew Prussia from basic history and having to research him for this meeting. Old country that was dissolved a while ago but is somehow still alive. It was going to be interesting meeting him.

"So, that was your happiest moment?" She asked. "A party?"

"It wasn't just a party though. It was amazing. England was there despite him being sick. First time ever he really showed up. And the dancing...that was the best part. Everyone did dances that were either really popular within their nations or what they liked the best. I was dancing with Canada most of the time, doin' the charleston. Austria and Hungary were doing a sort of waltz-y dance, even Russia got out there with his two sisters. Everyone was laughing and having a good time by the end of it all. Everyone...everyone had fun. I guess that's why it was my favorite memory. So many different nations were there and they were just...having fun."

Genevieve wrote that part down. This was going to make for the best article yet. Unless another country could somehow top what she was getting right now.

"What about any love interests?" Genevieve asked. "Any boyfriends or girlfriends that the other nations have? Any lucky ladies for you?"

America shook his head. "I can't talk about that. I'm sorry. If I said anything it might make it out to seem like we're allies with countries we're not. Sorry."

Genevieve frowned. They were just dating? What's the worse thing that could come out of a few dates?

Then she realized. If, let's say, a war was to happen against said lover, America might not be too incline to do anything to protect his own people. It could be horrible to everyone in both countries if they were dating.

"I see..." Genevieve put the pen down again. "Can you...can you answer if nations date each other?"

America paused to think about the question again. "Well, yes. We date. Sometimes our bosses arrange things. Liiiike, Austria and Hungary. They were married. I even went to their wedding. It was a nice wedding. But countries date, of course. I can't name names of anything, but we date."

She nodded and looked down to her paper. Compared to other interviews that she had, she didn't write much down. Lucky for her her camera caught everything that he had said. "How do you feel about the stereotypes your country has? For instance, America is always known as being over-"

"I'm not fat," America said suddenly. Genevieve looked up in a bit of shock with how quick that response was, but even more shocked with how he looked. His eyes were narrowed, the blue turning darker. The smile seemed to be wiped off his face all together. "I'm not fat. I mean, I was. I was overweight but I am doing my best to make sure that my weight and my nation's stays to a normal level."

Genevieve could only stare. Seconds seemed to tick by before America cleared his throat, the happy-guy smile going back on his face. "Haha, sorry about that girl. Didn't mean to go all serious on you. Let's...let's ask another question. Another question sounds great."

She nodded, flipping through her book for one. Anything about weight seemed to be out of the question. It was almost unbelievable how fast hew as to respond to such a question. Perhaps he got it so often he became annoyed with the idea of him tipping the scale. If Genevieve was known as the fattest nation in the world, she would get a bit sick and tired of it as well.

"During World War Two, America agreed to drop two atomic bombs on Japan. Are you and the nation still personally friends or...?"

America frowned again and Genevieve suddenly realized that this happy nation wasn't always so happy. "We're friends. Of course we're friends. It was...I hated myself for the longest time because of what happened. He hated me. But my boss said we had to take care of him. He stayed in his hospitals for a while, before moving to mine and then in my house so I could look after him. You grow kinda close with a guy after that. We're...we're friends now. He's forgiven me for what I did. I still feel like an asshat about it. And he gets sick a lot. But, it was war. You do things in war that scares you afterwards. You make choices in the heat of the moment without thinking about anything.

"I was all ready to bomb Japan," America continued. "I was ready to bomb them and I was ready to destroy the nation. Then when I actually saw what happened, when I saw the damage to him and his country, I...I felt so horrible."

Genevieve decided then to abandoned the sad questions. People wouldn't buy a sad magazine filled with sap stories about killing and hurting what could be allies. "What about any female nations. Currently you've just told me about male ones. Are there any girls? I would think there would be more due to a lot of them being referred to as 'her's in history books."

America looked up then and nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. He looked relax now. Much more casual than before. "Oh yeah, there's girl. Hungary is a girl, she married Austria. And remember? I mentioned about Russia's sisters. Didn't name them though so...sorry. Let's see, there's Hungary, Belarus, Ukraine...Ukraine...and there's more. I just can't seem to re-Seychelles! Seychelles is one! And also Liechtenstein. But there are a few more. Most of them are guys though."

More questions were asked after that. Genevieve trying her best to get the latest feed and other news and opinions. She tried her best to get out what he thought about popular topics in America, but he wouldn't budge other than saying that everyone should be equal and free. She guessed if need be she could chalk him up to be a liberal or someone from the independent party if her boss really wanted. Once everything was asked and answered, she packed up her equipment and thanked America again before she was shown her way out, a giddy smile on her face for completing her first interview.

* * *

Alfred was driven back to his apartment soon after. The homey and large space greeted before him. A few piles of jeans tossed on the couch and two cups in the sink, but other than that it was very neat and clean. God forbid he leave too many things around the house. It was like England could sense such things.

Flopping on his bed, he picked up his cellphone and dialed, smiling when the tired voice greeted him from the other side. "Hey babe, just got done with the interview thingy. The chick was pretty nice."

"Hello, Alfred." Kiku answered with a tiny, cat-like yawn. It was well past three in the morning for Japan, but Alfred had promised to call right after the interview was over with. "No hard questions were asked for you?"

"Nope. She did ask about us..." America wasn't going to mention which part. The dating or when America bombed him, but they both knew. "She asked and I think I might have told too much." A pause. "I'm sorry."

Kiku clicked his tongue. "Alfred, remember, I'm not mad. No matter how many times I have to say it, you're forgiven."

"You aren't feeling sick?"

"No, Alfred, I am okay." Japan yawned again and sat up. "Go and find my sweatshirt." They had left an article of clothing at the other's house, a sweet boyfriend thing America came up with so it would be like they were there. America left a shirt for Japan to sleep in, and Japan left his sweatshirt. It was much too small for the power-house nation to wear, so cuddling with it would have to due.

America sighed. "I'll get it later. You need sleep. Okay? I'll be fine. Love you, babe." He clicked off before Kiku could say anything and put his phone to silent. Something was still bothering him, and it wasn't the idea of hurting his beloved so badly in the past.

Standing, he slowly made his way to the bathroom. His enemy facing him and waiting to crush his hopes. The scale. Removing his shirt and shoes, he stepped on and waited for the number to pop up.

 _138.5 lbs._

"What!?" America said out loud. That was a good ten pounds up from what he was a while ago. He couldn't have gained that much weight. He couldn't be the fat nation anymore. He couldn't handle it. France and England saying how he needed to lose weight, so many nations making small little jokes. 'Fat America', they would say. 'Shoving burger's down your face will make you fatter', they said. He didn't want to be fat. He wanted to be thin again.

No matter. He just wouldn't eat for a while. Until the next meeting, he would be fine.

Right?

* * *

Author's Note: So, this isn't edited and I probably wont go back and make it all neat and pretty for a while. Finals are coming up for me and that's why it took so long to get this chapter out. Also, it's around 2 in the morning that I'm finishing this and I should probably be getting sleep for school. But who cares? I got the chapter out. Tell me what you all thing in a review. They always help and help motivate me more for new chapters. Also, I've been thinking for the other countries that I plan on doing with the whole, best and worst memories. Tell me your favorite country and say what you think their best or worse moment in history would be. Thank you all for reading and have a great night.


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